


Walking Backwards Out of Hell

by SinkingSims



Category: Breaking Bad, The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, because it's 2020 and i finally watched brba and guess who fell in love with a certain character, crossover time babey!, drug mention, self-indulgent statement fic, spoilers for the whole show, verbal and emotional abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:22:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26074117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinkingSims/pseuds/SinkingSims
Summary: Statement of Jesse Pinkman, regarding the, ah, questionable behavior of his former business partner, Walter White. Statement taken directly from subject by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.
Relationships: Jesse Pinkman & Walter White, jonathan sims & jesse pinkman
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	Walking Backwards Out of Hell

[INT. MAGNUS INSTITUTE, ARCHIVES, JON’S OFFICE]

[RECORDER CLICKS ON]

[CHAIR CREAKS]

**ARCHIVIST**

_ (clears throat)  _ Ah, have a seat, I suppose.

**JESSE**

I’m good right here.

**ARCHIVIST**

The tape needs to be able to pick up your words. For our records. You’re pacing around the room.

**JESSE**

I said I’m good. I’m good, you got that?

**ARCHIVIST**

_ (frustrated huff)  _ I’m merely suggesting-

**JESSE**

_ (overlapping)  _ It looks like a piece of junk anyways, man. How old is that thing? Probably older than me.

**ARCHIVIST**

Yes, well. Our more modern equipment has been so faulty that I’ve all but given up on it. The tape recorder is at least reliable.

**JESSE**

_ (laughs)  _ Looks about as reliable as a beat up RV in the middle of the desert. 

**ARCHIVIST**

Mr. Pinkman, I don’t have all day. So if you don’t mind-

**JESSE**

_ (overlapping)  _ Reminds me of Mr. White and I first starting out. Before we had fancy equipment or underground labs and all. Before he turned into a  _ demon. _

**ARCHIVIST**

A demon?

**JESSE**

Yeah, a demon.  _ (increasing intensity)  _ An evil, life-destroying devil. A sadistic monster. A blood-sucking vampire. A master manipulator. Pick your poison, right?

**ARCHIVIST**

_ (taken aback)  _ ...Right. 

**JESSE**

I just want people to know. I want  _ everyone  _ to know what he did. And not just to me. No, not just to me, but to everyone who had the misfortune of crossing him. He can’t keep getting away with it. I won’t let him get away with it. Not even in death. I can’t take my story to the police, obviously. And I have no one else to tell. I heard your weird old library takes witness statements without involving the pigs and all so…

**ARCHIVIST**

So you came here.

**JESSE**

Yeah. I came here.

**ARCHIVIST**

Alright, well. Let’s start with the introductions then. Statement of Jesse Pinkman, regarding...

**JESSE**

My asshole partner. Former partner. Whatever. That asshole Mr. White. 

**ARCHIVIST**

Full names, please. 

**JESSE**

Mr. Asshole  _ Walter _ White.

**ARCHIVIST**

Statement of Jesse Pinkman, regarding the, ah, questionable behavior of his former business partner, Walter White. Statement taken directly from subject by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. 

Statement begins.

**JESSE**

Look I’m not saying I’m innocent. I’m not saying I’m good. I know that I’m not, okay? And I know there’s no redeeming myself. That’s not why I’m here. I just need to get it out, you know? I need at least one person still alive who knows my story. And it’s much worse than whatever you may have heard on the news, okay? Do you get American news in England? 

**ARCHIVIST**

Well-

**JESSE**

_ (overlapping)  _ Stupid, of course you probably don’t. New Mexico must seem like a whole different world from London. I’ve already seen more rain here in a couple days than I have in a year back there. 

**ARCHIVIST**

Ah, Albuquerque, correct? 

**JESSE**

Yeah, and I’m taking a big risk by coming here, okay? A big fucking risk. The DEA and the FBI are on the hunt, yo. Full fucking force. As far as everyone is concerned, this is the last place Jesse Pinkman ever was, and the last thing he ever did was talk to you people. So I’m going to talk now, and I need you to shut up and listen, okay?

**ARCHIVIST**

I’m-

**JESSE**

_ (overlapping)  _ Shit man, sorry. I don’t-I don’t mean to be… I’ve just been through one hell of a year. I’m sorry Mr. Archivist. 

**ARCHIVIST**

Ah, Jonathan Sims-I mean Jon, Jon is fine. And Mr. Pinkman, If you need a moment to collect yourself…

**JESSE**

( _ a long, slow exhale)  _ No, I’m ready. 

  
  


[A CHAIR BEING SLID ON A HARD FLOOR]

[A CREAK, PRESUMABLY JESSE SITTING]

  
  


**JESSE** **_(cont.)_ **

Mr. White and I, we go way back. He was my chemistry teacher in high school. Small world, right man?  _ (to himself)  _ Yeah, small world. 

I was never a star student, obviously. And I hated chemistry. It was hard--too much memorization and too many numbers. I usually spent that class napping or doodling. I still have some of those drawings. I would show you, but… I haven’t shown them to anyone since--well that doesn’t matter anymore. 

Mr. White saw me as a problem student. He gave my work some, uh,  _ scathing reviews _ , or whatever. I didn’t pass the class. Look, that doesn’t mean I didn’t graduate, okay? I graduated. Of course  _ he  _ assumed that I didn’t, because he still saw me as that same kid who flunked his chemistry class. Even though we were supposed to be partners. I don’t think he ever truly saw me as an equal. I mean, he thought I was a lot of things--stupid, a junkie, a failure, an embarrassment, a real useless piece of a shit. And I’m not saying he’s wrong, about any of it. I know that I’m nothing, okay? 

It’s just. I think something happened to him, Mr. Sims. I don’t know what, but one day he was just my old chemistry teacher looking to get into the meth business, to support his family and pay his medical bills, you know? But there was… there was something much darker in him. I think he might have been a sadist, yo. I know how that sounds, but there’s no other way I can think to describe it. Mr. White was my high school chemistry teacher and then he was my partner in crime and then he was a fucking soul-sucking monster. That’s all there is to it. 

That’s how I used to see it, anyways. Now it’s more--I think he  _ always _ was? I just didn’t know, at first. Couldn’t see it, not really. He used to hide it better, and not just from me, but from everyone. He hid it from his whole family, yo. He had a wife and a son and a little baby girl and none of them had any idea they were living with a monster. A real life horror. Maybe you’ve read about that part in the news. They love talking about it.  _ (imitating announcer voice)  _ Beloved family man found dead following a several-week manhunt. The man was believed to be the infamous Heisenberg, meth kingpin of the American southwest. Sound familiar? 

I wish that was the half of it, Mr. Sims. If he was just a drug dealer with a penchant for lying to his family, I wouldn’t be here right now. Me and him, we’ve got that stuff in common. But we aren’t the same, understand? He was cruel. He poisoned a child. He watched my girlfriend  _ die.  _ And he doesn’t feel bad about any of it. But you know the worst part? The worst part is that once he’s got you under his wing, you’re never leaving the nest. You don’t get to fly and make your own way. No, he couldn’t let go. 

He was like a trickster god. He was fucking Loki, yo. Every single time you tried to cut your losses, pack up your share and hit the ground running, you’d end up right back in his web of lies. Every. Fucking. Time. I don’t know how he did it. I don’t know, okay? There’s nothing I can really tell you about that. I just know he could tell stories like nobody’s business. He could get anyone on his side. I… I used to admire that about him. I used to aspire to that, you know? 

But eventually I realized there was no limit to what he would do. No bridge too far, no act too monstrous. Nowhere he would draw a fucking line in the sand between himself and his massive fucking ego. Like I said, he poisoned a fucking child. Oh yeah, and I ended up in a fucking cage thanks to him. Him and his greed and his goddamn ego. While he fucked off to somewhere back east, with snow and real trees.  _ (bitten-off laughter)  _ The place I’m going, it’s got snow. Lots of it. Definitely ain’t no fucking desert, where I’m going. I’m walking backwards  _ out _ of hell, not the other way around. I’m starting over. 

The first time I tried to get out of the meth business was right after we escaped that crazy bitch Tuco by the skin of our asses. From the start I said, Mr. White these people are dangerous, you don’t want to mess with them. But he convinced me. And when we somehow made it out alive, he pulled me right back in. 

Look, I know I can’t blame my choices all on Mr. White. I was an idiot. I should’ve told him to fuck off right there and then. I just mean to say, there was something about him, the way he talked and the things he said, that made me feel crazy for wanting to leave. It made me second-guess everything. And you know what? I thought he was smarter than me, at first. I trusted him. I was an idiot. 

I tried to get back on my feet, start fresh, you know? I got an apartment and I even… I had Jane.  _ (shaky)  _ I don’t want to talk about that. But Mr. White couldn’t let me be, understand? He broke into my place, he…  _ (voice breaking)  _ No. No no no. I’m not saying anything else about that, got it? Nada. Zilch. 

When I was trying to get clean, Mr. White helped me. He paid for my rehab. Again, I wanted to make it on my own. I told that son of a bitch I didn’t want to be partners anymore. I told him that after his shitbag of a brother-in-law beat the tar out of me and I wound up in the fucking hospital. But what happened next? Oh I bet you can guess! 

[CHAIR SLIDING ON FLOOR]

**JESSE** **_(cont.)_ **

That’s right! We ended up partners again! I don’t even remember what he fucking said to me, okay? That’s some mind control shit, right? That’s some dark magic, some sorcery, but not the fun kind! And this time it ended up even worse for us. We were working for some real evil dudes, this time. They were ruthless. There was no quitting, no I’m done with cooking for real this time, because it was either you cook, or your brains get splattered onto the back wall for the cleaning crew to take care of later. 

I tried to make the best of it, though. And the money was good. I’ll give him that. The money was really damn good. Money enough to make you beg for it like a little bitch. But Mr. White was so fucking  _ paranoid,  _ Mr. Sims. He was neurotic. He once spent an entire day of work trying to kill a fly that got into our lab. And he called  _ me  _ crazy! Hah! 

Mr. White was convinced that our new boss was out to get him, you see. He had me kill a man for him. I… Look, I know he didn’t force me to become a killer, okay? I’m not blaming him for what I did. I made my choices. I’ve never forgotten what I learned in rehab. I know I’m the bad guy, and I accept that about myself. But a part of me still feels manipulated, you know? Conned. It was like, I could have it in my mind what I was going to do, but somehow after talking with him I’d end up doing the opposite. I don’t know if anyone else has ever looked you in the eyes and told you they felt they’d been strung up like one of those creepy puppets people think kids like. But that’s what it felt like for me. Scout’s honor. 

_ (dry laugh)  _ And I mean, at the end of it, he sold me down the fucking river, didn’t he? Yeah, I ended up literally chained and locked in place, all my movements restrained to what they wanted me to do, which was cook, mostly. He let that happen. I was there for weeks. A puppet in their twisted show. 

Not anymore. They’re all dead now, and Mr. White’s gone. He bled out, or the cancer got him, or something. I don’t care. I’m just happy he’s fucking dead, because that’s the only way I’m ever going to be able to sleep at night. That’s the only thing that keeps me from screaming and tearing everything apart and driving my car off the nearest cliff. He can’t touch me anymore. His magic mouth can’t manipulate me ever again.  _ (voice cracking)  _ It’s finally over. I’m finally free. 

**ARCHIVIST**

Can I, uh, get you anything? Some water, or?

**JESSE**

I’m fine. 

**ARCHIVIST**

I-do you need a minute alone? 

**JESSE**

Look Mr. Sims, like I said, I’m not the good guy here. I’m not looking for anything. I just needed my story told, because I’m the only one who can tell it. I don’t understand what made Mr. White monstrous. I don’t think I ever will. Maybe you’ll have better luck than me. But it’s not my problem anymore, okay? Jesse Pinkman is dead, too. 

**ARCHIVIST**

Alright. Well then, statement ends. 

**JESSE**

_ (jovial)  _ Yeah, bitch! Statement  _ fucking _ ends, yo!

**ARCHIVIST**

Ah, have my card. If you think of anything else you want to add, just give me a call. 

**JESSE**

I dunno, international call costs are no joke, Mr. Sims. 

**ARCHIVIST**

Well be that as it may, I think this statement warrants an open line of communication, as a precautionary measure. 

  
  


[CHAIR CREAKS]

[SHUFFLING AND WHAT SOUNDS LIKE FOOTSTEPS ON OLD WOODEN FLOORS]

  
  


**JESSE**

Thank you for your help, Mr. Sims. Cheerio, or whatever fancy pants stuff you guys say here. 

**ARCHIVIST**

Uh, yes. That. And no need to thank me. I’m merely doing my duty as the head archivist of this institute, Mr. Pinkman. 

**JESSE**

Okay, well, at least shake my hand man!

**ARCHIVIST**

I, uh-

**JESSE**

Come on, put her there!

**ARCHIVIST**

I-alright. 

**JESSE**

Hell yes! See ya around, Mr. Sims sir.

**ARCHIVIST**

_ (flustered)  _ Ah, uh, yes. Enjoy the snow, Mr. Pinkman. And the trees. 

  
  


[RECORDER CLICKS OFF]

[RECORDER CLICKS ON]

  
  


**ARCHIVIST**

There’s obviously not much we can do in terms of follow up for this statement. In fact, although I recorded it analog rather than digitally as a precautionary measure, I’m fairly certain this contains no elements of the supernatural at all. For the first time, I almost find myself wishing for a supernatural explanation, as the truth of the matter seems much more grim.

One could perhaps argue The Web’s influence has manifested itself here, but I rather doubt it. No, this seems to be much more the story of a good man who got caught up with some very bad people. And, if I were to query a guess, I’d say this Walter White was a narcissistic megalomaniac with a notable ruthless streak. 

Hm. Can’t say I’m too put upon by his death. Perhaps it’s conjecture on my part, but I can’t imagine he’s left any sort of upstanding legacy anywhere in this world, as this statement seems to paint a pattern of behavior. I just hope that Mr. Pinkman is able to get the fresh start he’s so badly looking for. He deserves that much, I think.

End recording. 

**Author's Note:**

> I just had to get this out. Carry on!


End file.
